


Beautiful

by ourladyunderground



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Eventual Romance, F/M, Fluff, Not Beta Read, One Shot, Romance, Somewhere in the middle of the game, hinted romance - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-11
Updated: 2019-01-11
Packaged: 2019-10-08 03:43:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,305
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17378927
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ourladyunderground/pseuds/ourladyunderground
Summary: “How did the Dalish raise someone who enjoyed violence?”Lavellan wonders on why Solas is so pretty, and stares for a bit too long.





	Beautiful

**Author's Note:**

> So I don't write fanfiction often. This is maybe my fourth fanfic ever, all one-shots, and the first one I've written in around five years or so. I apologise for all spelling mistakes, and however potentially shit it is. I wrote this over the course of an hour, have no beta, and probably suck at writing. I also apologise for how possibly out of character everyone. Wish me luck!

It goes something like this. He was beautiful, and almost oddly so. She hadn’t thought so the first time she’d seen him, when he'd grabbed her hand and stuck it right on that right. His eyes were too far up on his face for her liking, too set back in his skull as well, and they were awfully far apart. The bulge near the middle of his nose, indicating it had most likely been broken, made his nose too lumpy for her tastes, and the way the tip of it angled down was also quite weird. His face was a bit too angular, a bit too harsh, and she had always _hated_ butt chins. _Always. How did people even like them?_

But time passed, and little things began to appeal. Like the way his eyes crinkled when he laughed, or smiled, or when he spoke a little bit too much about the Fade. _They would light up too. She sometimes asked just to see that._ How, even when he tried his best to keep his emotions in check, his eyebrows somehow seemed to tell her everything. She liked the bags under his eyes from staying up too late at night, probably reading.

Okay, and yes, his cheekbones and jaw. There was something certainly appealing about those. While there was something scary about all the lines, there was also something beautiful in the over pronounced lines which she hadn't seen in others faces. And by the _creators_ , she _adored_ his freckles. She’d never had freckles, instead just smooth tan skin. She wanted to know what it would be like to try to count the invasion of freckles on his face. _How long would it take? How many were there?_

These things made themselves known as time passed. Sometimes they would randomly appear in her sight. Or sometimes they would make themselves known when she would stare. Like she was doing right now. And perhaps she was staring at him a bit too hard, because soon he was staring back, and it was slowly becoming _awkward_. _Her fault she supposed. She needed to stop staring_

“Something interesting Inquisitor?” His voice is smoothed out over the words, and she for a moment doesn’t quite know what to say, so she just shrugs.

“Haven’t decided yet.” She replies, trying to play it off smoothly. _When the back of her ears burn red. Too hot. Stop staring. Don't be a fool_. And she’s much too thankful that Cole isn’t there to announce her embarrassment to the world. _Creators that would be horrific._

The fire is warm, and the night is cold. And as soon as the heat comes in to burn her ears, it's gone from the rest of her, and she’s almost too cold, so she scoots closer to the warmth in the middle of their camp. It’s both a diversion, and an attempt to just be _warm_ everyone knows it. Varric even has the audacity to laugh. _Bastard._ So She picks up a pebble to throw it at him in upset.

“Violent much?” He asks with another laugh, and she looks to him to glare.

“Very.” He laughs again.

“Well, the way you twirl that staff of yours could’ve told us that I guess. You seem to like fighting almost as much as Tiny.” She takes the diversion with a glee, and nods, turning to push herself into this conversation like a drowning woman. _It's obvious, and she knows it. But there's only one person to judge her, and he's the one she's trying to avoid._

“I like the excitement.” Her voice scratches as she speaks. “Not the killing part, or the blood.” Her nose wrinkles next.

Solas looks at her oddly. She doesn’t notice. _Liar, liar._ “Odd reason to fight. I can’t imagine that’s popular among the Dalish.” Varric’s face is twisted into questions. Storytellers _love_ asking questions, like she's just story fodder. She supposes in a way she is. Or at least _now_ she is. _After all, what is Andraste but a story nowadays?_

“No.” She shakes her head. “Not that much, probably why they made someone younger than me First.” Varric looks even more interested, like he has even more questions, and her gut is twisting inwards. _Is it eating itself?_ She doesn’t want to answer them, and her adoration for this diversion has faded into a pleading wish for it to end. _She's too temperamental and she knows it._

Maybe her face tells the right story of stories that shouldn't be told, because Varric doesn't ask those questions. He doesn't ask any after that. Instead he just nods, and stands, announcing that it's time for him to go to bed for the night. _She thanks him and curses him._ And so her red-headed diversionary tactic leaves. The fourth member of their party was never there to begin with. Vivienne had claimed she didn't like the mud. Or the grass. And she believes it, and in all honesty, she doesn't think the grass, or the mud, likes Vivienne all that much as well. That mage has no respect for nature. It would be insulting if she believed in those sorts of things.

But she’s left there with Solas without a lifeline to save her. And instead of looking anywhere else, she looks straight back at him. _Face your fears head on is what Mamae had told her when she was little and scared of statues. They were too_ still. In her mind she can't help but question why she hasn't gone to bed yet. She could avoid all of this if only she went to fucking bed. _But she wants to stay here. She'll admit that to herself._

“You were never made First of your clan.” Solas begins, and she sighs.

 _Great_ “We just talked about this. I said I wasn’t.” He looks interested. _What the fuck is interesting about such a stupid thing?_

“How did the Dalish raise someone who enjoyed violence?” He continues on, and she glares lightly again. Thinking hard, harsh, violent thoughts, coloring red in her mind.

“I don’t enjoy violence.” Irritated tones briefly color her voice, and her hands pick up from by her sides, wandering around to emphasize her words. “I just like the excitement of it. I also like exploring old buildings, it’s more that feeling of just being alive. What good is life if I’m never living?” The words are excited on her lips. _Bit too unDalish there. Be more Dalish._

He doesn’t say a thing in reply, and all she can remember is one of their early conversations in Haven where he told her about his life, well he'd told her a bit about his childhood. _He was from a small town, and always looking for more. He was restless too. It's nice to know she's not all that crazy._ She thinks he understands, and there’s a smile on his lips, and she knows he does. So they sit in silence a little bit more, and it's a little bit less awkward.

“Can you show me the fade sometime?” Her words settle on that as a final reply, one last set of words before she goes to bed. He looks at her, he was already looking and so was she to be honest, and nods. _Oddly happy feeling at that. Record and think about that later._

“When we get back to Skyhold I will show you.” The words sound like a promise, and that makes her skin crawl. Why make a promise over something like that? It’s an inconsequential triviality. A nothingness, it's not as if she'll die if he doesn't show her. Just maybe feel a little bit disappointed. _But she's also happy. That he would care enough to promise. Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck._

She smiles, and doesn’t think about it, and he smiles back.

Fuck he’s beautiful.


End file.
